Words
by Elah
Summary: Sometime in future, Joan Kinney suffers a great loss. Afterwards, she is taken on a quest for wisdom and peace of mind. For travel companions she gets two people she never expected to find close to her heart. One of them is her son Brian, the other is even a bigger surprise to all. Warning: Since the story is about Joan, there is religious content.


_**Words**_

_Warning: Since the story is about Joan Kinney, there is religious content._

xxxxx

"Our Lord knows our hearts."

_Yes, He knows, _Joan Kinney agreed with the Reverend Tom Butterfield who was preaching the sermon. _Not debauchery, not disobedience, not pride can be hidden from His eyes. His judgment, His punishment my son cannot escape from. As his mother, I did what I could, but I'm just a woman. I cannot be Brian's keeper. He calls me judgmental, he accuses me of intolerance, and he always denies his sins. He turns away from Our Lord. My solemn warnings, even my punishments were never enough to turn him back from the road to Hell, but I tried. Our Lord knows I did; he knows my heart. I rest assured in His Omniscience._

Joan's thoughts were disturbed by a terrible pain. It exploded in the back of her head, on the left side, and made her cry out. People turned to look at her, but she did not notice. She had lost consciousness.

xxxxx

Later, Joan woke up in a room she had never seen before. Regardless, she knew where she was.

_Why am I in hospital? What's happened? Am I sick?_

_I don't feel sick. Actually, I haven't felt this good in years. Even my back feels OK. Just this little headache, that's all. I'm thirsty, though._

_It's quite dark in here, and silent. Is it night?_

It was night, and so the only sounds that Joan heard were the other people in the room breathing, and some equipment humming and beeping. Soon Joan fell asleep again. Nobody noticed that she had awakened.

The next time Joan was aware of her surroundings, the place was no longer silent. There was enough background noise to cover most of the sounds in her room; only the steady beeps she had listened to in the night were still with her. Outside, she heard people talking, their steps echoing close by, even the distant traffic humming.

It was strangely relaxing, to just lie there. There was nothing to remember, nothing to do, nothing to worry about. For the first time in years others were taking care of her.

Even though she did not need to, she remembered that she had been in church. Most likely the good people there had called an ambulance for her.

_Our Lord takes such good care of His children. If I had been at home, nobody would have known that I was in trouble. My neighbors would never have thought to disturb me at home. Claire might have called in a few days, but it might have been too late. Brian would not have called, he never does. He doesn't care whether I live or die._

"Good morning, Mrs. Kinney," a young woman in nurse's outfit appeared at her bedside. "You're in Allegheny General Hospital, and my name is Mary. How are you feeling?"

Joan answered Mary's greeting and told the girl that she felt quite all right, but the girl asked her to repeat her answer. It did not surprise Joan; her mouth was so dry that it was hard to speak. She tried to croak again. The nurse seemed to take alarm at her weak voice. Saying that she would go to look for Joan's doctor, the nurse hurried out of the room.

It took some time before Mary returned with the doctor, and so Joan had ample time to get worried. Shaken out of her lethargy, she found out that she could not feel her feet and that she could use only one of her hands. Recalling the pain that had landed her into the hospital she soon reached the frightening conclusion that she must have suffered a stroke that left her partially paralyzed.

_Oh, Lord. Have I not suffered enough? Please, help me!_

The doctor wore a worried look as he greeted Joan and went on with, "I'm Dr. Andrew Norman. You suffered a stroke last night: you've been in our care overnight. Mary here told me that there seems to be something amiss with you. In order to get to the bottom of that, we need to check you out. Is that OK with you?"

Joan gave her consent, but at her words the doctor's forehead drew into even more worried creases.

The next few minutes the doctor used for tests with which Joan was familiar to some extent from various TV shows: he checked her eyes, asked her to follow his finger and other such things. Then he asked her to tell him some basic things, such as her name, her address, the year, the name of the president.

Joan's answers worried Dr. Norman a great deal, but he tried to keep it from showing. He didn't want his patient to get anxious. It would have an effect on the test results.

"Mrs. Kinney, I'm afraid that the stroke has affected your speech," the doctor said after completing the tests. "I can't understand you, but it seems that you understand what I say."

Joan was not so sure: what the doctor just said made no sense at all.

"Let's see if you can write, shall we? Would you write your name on this?" the doctor said handing Joan a notepad and a pen.

_If I can write?_

Indignant, Joan did as the man asked. Then she kept staring at the little white piece of paper.

_Jolly Kettle. I wrote Jolly Kettle. Why did I write that?_

xxxxx

Dr. Norman tried to tell Joan more, but he talked to deaf ears. Joan could not wrap her mind around the fact that instead of her own name she had written such an obscure thing. Frantically she tried again and again. All she got on the paper was gibberish. She started to cry. After a while, the doctor thought it best to sedate her.

The next morning Joan woke up with forlorn thoughts. The nurse Mary told her that she was allowed to have visitors, but the news did not brighten her day. The only person she expected to visit her in hospital was Claire, and she would come no sooner than in the evening, and what good would that do anyway? She would not understand her. Nobody understood her.

Joan was wrong, though. Just after breakfast, Dr. Norman brought Claire to see her.

"Mom, it's so good to see you at last!" Claire rushed to Joan's bed. She looked like she had not slept in days. "I was so worried. You're looking good, considering." Claire took Joan's hand. Joan did not respond. "Reverend Butterfield called and told me that you'd had a stroke. I've been here all night. How are you feeling?" When Joan failed to answer she shook the hand she was holding. "Mom, talk to me!"

"I'm sorry, Claire, but your mother can't talk to you." Dr. Norman gently pulled Claire's hand away. "I brought you here so I could tell you both the first test results. Please sit down," he asked, pulling a chair closer.

The dark cloud over Joan's head got darker as Dr. Norman told them that the stroke had caused damage to Joan's brain. As a result, she had lost control of her legs as well as of her right arm and hand. Further, the stroke had impaired her language skills. He called her condition aphasia. Apparently, the damage did not affect her comprehension of spoken or written language, but it affected her ability to produce either of the aspects of language herself.

"Whack door in mouse?" Joan asked, and seeing pity in the doctor's eyes understood that it really was happening. She was speaking gibberish. Tears welled in her eyes.

"What does it mean, doctor?" Claire asked, and despite the tears, Joan nodded enthusiastically.

_Thank You, Lord! Claire understands me! My good girl_.

"You just heard what aphasia means in your mother's case. She intends to say something, but what comes of her efforts is not what she wanted to say. Usually this kind of speech disorder follows some patterns. In order to recognize them in your mother's speech we need to run more tests."

"Shit eye gest..." Joan started, but stopped at the sorrowful glance from Claire.

_Oh my God! Help me; help Claire to catch my meaning!_

"Of course," Claire nodded, agreeing with the doctor about the tests, "but she will get better, right, Dr. Norman? She will walk again, talk again. It will take some time, but she will get well?"

_That's it, my precious child. Thank You, my Lord! Thank You!_

The doctor turned to Joan. Keeping eye contact with her, he answered Claire's questions. "I have high hopes that with physical therapy you will regain the control of your right hand. About your walking unaided again I'm less hopeful, but I believe that there's a chance."

"And...?" Claire was unable to go on.

"In order to communicate again, you need to work very hard, Mrs. Kinney. There are therapists that can help you."

"To communicate again, doctor...?"

Claire's words echoed Joan's doubt that the doctor was not telling them everything.

"I wish I had better news," Dr Norman told Joan with deep compassion coloring his voice. "You may learn to communicate to some extent, but most likely it won't be by speech. With good luck, you have one chance in a million to speak clearly again. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kinney."

Joan closed her tear-flooded eyes. The tears did not dry until, hours later, she was exhausted enough to fall asleep.

xxxxx

Night had fallen when Joan woke up. Claire, Dr. Norman and the nurse Mary had left. She was alone, again.

_I've been alone for so long, way too long. Was I always alone? Not as a child or teenager, no, but later. With Jack? He might have been in the same house, but was he with me? Hardly ever. With him I was always alone. With Claire and Brian? When they were little they were with me, we were always together, the three of us. Claire stayed with me, but Brian was barely out of his diapers when he started to shut me out. He stopped telling me his little secrets, he stopped bringing me his little treasures, he stopped listening to me. He became such a secretive boy. _

_After Jack died I thought that Claire would move in with me. I still don't understand why she didn't. It would've saved her a lot of money, and there was room for her and her boys and even for that man of hers. It would've been lovely._

_I was lonely before, but it was nothing if compared to this. I'm truly alone now, truly alone. This is too much. I can't take this._

_Why, Lord? Why me? Why, of all the people, are You doing this to me? What have I ever done to deserve this? I've always faithfully followed Your will, I never questioned, I never rebelled. Or if I did, I always throttled such heretical thoughts as soon as I possibly could. You gave me burdens to carry, but I always carried my cross without accusations. I submitted myself to Your will, Lord. Why are You giving me this, too, to carry? This is too much!_

Joan could find no answers.

xxxxx

Claire returned the next day.

"Mom, I know that Dr. Norman and other doctors have told you what they have found out so far. They told me, too. We'll need to find you a place in a rehabilitation center and physical therapy as well as speech therapy, and Mom, I don't know what to do." Claire stood up and started to pace. "I don't have that kind of money, and even if we sell your house, will it be enough, and if you get better...when you get better, where would you live if we sell the house?"

Claire dropped back on the chair and took Joan's one good hand in her own. "Mom, we have to call Brian. There's no other way."

"Night Broom! Nasty Brim!"

"Oh, mother. I think I know what you're trying to say. You don't want me to call him, do you?" Joan shook her head no, but Claire did not agree. She went on with, "I wish we had that choice, but we have to be realistic, Mother. And besides, he owes you. He should take responsibility in this situation; you are his Mother, too."

"Ice dog wash hull! Her's demolish!" Joan's cheeks were getting red, and her eyes were blazing.

"Mom! Calm down. Oh dear Lord, what could you mean? I don't have an idea."

"Night Broom! Night Broom! Night Broom!"

Claire found no words that would have calmed Joan. She left, leaving herself as well as her mother feeling quite unsatisfied.

Joan found the latest turn in her situation unbearable. She did not want Brian at her bedside, not while she was in such a vulnerable state of mind. At best her encounters with Brian were stressful, at worst they were battles of will. He never admitted that she was right, and he always took the opposite stand. He had to quarrel about any little thing.

As a boy, he had turned away from her; as a man he had turned away from God. Brian had a nasty attitude towards her, and his blatant flaunting of his abhorrent lifestyle was just one indicator of his twisted personality. His attitude towards God was as nasty as it was towards her.

_Lord All-Mighty, have mercy on me! Don't leave me at the mercy of such an ungodly man._

xxxxx

Apparently Joan's prayers were not fervent enough since a couple of days later Joan had to suffer a visit from her ungodly homosexual son.

Joan got her first inkling of that intrusion into her turf when she heard Brian's voice from the corridor. She hoped that he would stay there, but after a few words with a nurse, Brian stepped into Joan's room

"Good evening, Mother. Claire told me what has happened and in what condition you are at the moment," he said in a quiet, non-committal voice.

In Brian's demeanor, there was no warmth, there was no pity, but contrary to Joan's expectations, there was no sneer, either. Brian was not even sporting his usual smirk which Joan always found particularly disgusting.

"I'm sorry to see you in such a predicament," Brian went on.

Joan rolled her eyes.

"I see that, beneath the damage, you're still the same old Joan." And there came the disgusting smirk.

"Let's not waste our time with platitudes, then. I have found you a place in a nearby rehabilitation facility. It's close enough that your friends and family can visit you there. The facility has a good reputation; the services are highly recommended by the former patients and their families. I take care of the costs; you take care of getting into as good shape as possible. Deal?"

Joan stared at Brian. She was left speechless, really speechless!

"Deep," Joan at last got out. The glance she directed to Brian was half disgusted, half defiant.

Brian burst out laughing.

"Yeah, very deep thinking, isn't it? Oh, if eyes could kill... But, don't get your knickers in knots, Joan. I did get your meaning. It is a deal."

Without another word, Brian was gone. Joan sat there, her jaw forgotten on the floor.

xxxxx

In a few moments Joan was back to normal, or maybe not exactly that. She seethed. With his usual arrogance, Brian had put his hand in her business. He had not even thought of asking her consent to his plans. He just dictated his will. If her miserable excuse of a son expected gratitude he had another thing coming.

It was bad enough that Brian put his nose where it did not belong, but that he also laughed at her distorted speech: that Joan found unforgivable. How callous could a man get! Joan found her son without the most basic human consideration of the feelings of others.

Joan hoped that it was the last time she ever laid eyes on her son.

It took quite some time before Joan found her peace of mind again. That she could not speak her mind to Brian was the worst problem. That she could not give her piece of mind to all the incompetent, stupid and irritating people that disturbed her rest was a problem, too. That she could not stomp her foot was not a real problem, but she felt the need quite keenly. For a considerable period of time, her condition made her thoroughly frustrated. Only as Joan got physically stronger, her state of mind started slowly to improve, too. She started to adjust.

xxxxx

Without fuss, Brian kept his end of the bargain he made with his mother. As soon as the doctors allowed the transfer, Joan found herself in a tiny single person room in the rehabilitation facility. In the room she found pretty much everything she could think of needing: a bed, a nightstand beside it, a closet for her meager things. Excepting a wheelchair close to the door, she was in one more hospital room.

The day she moved into the facility, Claire was with her, presumably helping her to adjust. In Joan's opinion Claire was no help at all. She needed help, but Claire had no idea with what she needed her help. Claire offered to buy her magazines; Joan wanted her Bible. Claire brought her flowers; Joan missed her rosary. In order to find her some company, Claire took her to the day room; in order to say her prayers, Joan needed privacy. Joan's attempts to make Claire understand were pretty much as successful as if she were trying to move a bus by her one bare good hand.

Claire left with pledged intents of visiting Joan often: at least twice a week she promised. Because Claire had never before found that much time for her Joan did not quite believe she would keep her promise. She had to admit to Claire having a good reason for neglecting her: being a single parent of two adolescent boys and supporting her family with two jobs Claire had a busy schedule.

Joan saw her future as a desolate, bleak landscape. Unable to talk to people, she did not believe she could seek the company of the other patients. She did not look forward to visitors either. She had never felt compelled to meet with her friends from the parish outside of the church. Besides Claire, who would care enough about her to pay her a visit?

Least of all she expected Brian to visit her. She believed that, with his money, Brian had bought exactly what he wanted: out of his sight, she was out of his mind. So it was a big unwanted surprise that Brian sauntered into her room during the very first week of her stay.

"Hi, Joan," Brian drawled, walking to her bedside carrying a big box. "It seems that I wasn't ripped off, signing you in here. In your room everything seems to be exactly as they promised."

Smirking, Brian put the box close to her on the bed.

"I brought you some things from the house. Take a look. Give me back anything you don't want to keep."

_He went through my things?_ Joan thought. _He has no right._

"Yes, Mother dear, I took the liberty of going through your things. That death glare is quite impressive, but you have miles to go before you get even close to Jack's glares."

Joan was getting mad as a stinging bee, but at the same time, she was amazed how accurately Brian guessed her sentiment. In order to distract herself she opened the box. With Brian's help she lifted out her favorite woolen shawl, a couple of her softest pullovers, a few pairs of loose fitting pants, and even a pair of knitted socks. She looked at Brian like at someone with an improper number of heads.

"You know you'll need comfortable and warm clothes as soon as you're well enough to sit in your wheelchair. It won't take you long, I bet. You'll want to be as independent as you can. Your chair has a motor; you'll be able to run around the place without anyone keeping an eye on you."

For once, Joan's speech disorder did not matter: she felt like a fish on dry land anyway.

Next Brian took out a pile of books; without a word he put them in Joan's lap. The top most was her beloved Bible. Then the wayward son took his mother's one good hand and put her rosary in it.

"I think that for one day I've given you enough grief," Brian said turning to the door. "Don't expect me back any time soon. I'll come next Tuesday evening: not one day later, not one day earlier."

Brian walked out without a glance back. He left Joan with something in her throat that she could not swallow.

xxxxx

For Joan the next few months were a period of intense learning. As Dr. Norman had assumed, she gained back the use of her right hand. Instead of walking she learned to use her motored wheelchair, instead of independently taking showers she learned to trust in her caretakers, and instead of speaking and writing she learned to communicate through cards.

In Joan's case of aphasia, her ability to understand language was intact. Even if she could not read a written text out loud, in the text she could point the exact word she wanted. Her communication counselor took advantage of that fact. Joan carried always a pocket-sized dictionary that consisted of the most common words of English. In addition, she had a selection of cards that had on them phrases needed in everyday situations. In order to get her message out she needed time and effort, but she could do it. With a heart full of gratitude, Joan thanked God for that grace.

In order to make herself understood, however, Joan did not always need the cards or the dictionary. As has been seen in some other families with a speech impaired member, also in the Kinney family there was a person who had an uncanny knack for understanding Joan's way of speaking. That it was Brian amazed them all; Brian actually more than others was perplexed by that turn of events.

The doctors in the hospital had already found the pattern that Joan's speech followed. Grammatically, her speech was as before, and also the number of syllables in the words was correct. In addition, the word initial sound was from the word Joan wanted to use. So, in most cases just the mid-section of the sought for word was missing: cat came out as cop or kick. From these regularities and from context, Brian was remarkably often able to guess Joan's meaning. Thus, Brian's visits were what, contrary to the expectations of all the Kinneys, Joan began to enjoy the most.

As Brian had promised, he had come back at the Tuesday evening of the second week, then on the Tuesday of the third, and on every single Tuesday after that. After two months, Joan admitted to herself that Brian's steady visits were the best thing in her new life. That she did not tell Brian, though. She was too afraid.

xxxxx

Four months into her stay in the rehabilitation facility, Brian seemed to prove Joan's fears justified.

"I'm bored," Brian stated as soon as he stepped into the room. "Let's get out of here."

Without asking her permission, he delved into her closet and drew out her coat, shoes, scarf, gloves and hat. Then he proceeded with dressing her from head to toe in a garb that was appropriate to the brisk fall wind of the evening. In less than fifteen minutes he was steering her out of the building and into a spacious cab that was waiting.

"Whale ah youth tossing my?"

"I'm taking you to check out a place to live. You didn't think you could stay in that little hole for the rest of your life, now, did you?"

_A nursing home? I don't think so, mister._

"Ice hat a hole."

"True, Joan, you have a home, but it's not really a place where you can race around with your chair."

"Are cut has rumps intruded."

"Ramps?" Brian looked at her for affirmation, then went on with, "Using ramps you could live in the first floor rooms, but you'd be living with hired help. If that's what you want, that's OK, but I doubt that you do. It wouldn't be like before, not at all."

"Use maim that ice couldn't allow in."

"No, I don't mean that. Whether you can afford it or not doesn't matter: I can take care of that. What I meant was that you wouldn't want to pretend that nothing has changed. In addition, I think that you wouldn't mind if you could pay for your room in the nursing home with your own money."

_I would like that, but..._

"Ice went save mise help!"

"Why would you want to sell it? You should consider _renting out_ your house."

_I have to admit to it; sometimes, he knows my mind better than I do. It has crossed my mind that it's time to leave the place. The work they have done with me there has been effective, but lately there hasn't been much progress. I've known that I should think about the future, but I didn't want to._

In the meanwhile, they had arrived at the nursing home which put the topic on hold. The visit to the place was over in less than thirty minutes. Joan did not fall in love with the place and so was happy to see that Brian, too, was far from impressed.

"I think that next Tuesday I'll need to order that cab again," Brian said as he escorted Joan back into her room. "There must be better places for us to see."

Joan grinned.

"Some of the traditions of the place, as impressive as they sounded, did not seem like you, Joan. In particular, I couldn't see you dipping yourself every Sunday morning in that pool that had a paradise mosaic at the bottom. Beautiful it may be, but somehow, I can't imagine you diving in."

Joan had to laugh at the mental picture of the elders doing just that.

"As eels should plunder the power plant," Joan said, trying to share the image with Brian.

"That's quite a concept, Joan! Do you want to know what you just came up with?"

At Brian's repetition of her words Joan could but laugh, too, but it was not what she had in mind. She used her dictionary, and in a little while the mother and son were again laughing together. On the paper they had got the words, "And each shall plummet to paradise."

xxxxx

In time, Joan's house was rented out, she moved into the nursing home of her choosing, and life went on. Claire continued to visit her when she could, and Brian came every Tuesday. Since they no longer needed to look for a suitable nursing home, Joan was surprised when Brian again took her for a ride. That time, Brian refused to tell her where he was taking her. Only at their destination Joan knew why. She would have resisted going. But there they were, at her old church where it all began, at the right time for the evening Mass.

"Mother, if you don't want to go in, it doesn't matter. It's your call. Consider this, though: your oldest friends are there, and the last time they saw you, you were in a rather bad shape. Wouldn't you prefer them remembering you as you are now?"

_The boy has a point. And besides, I haven't been to church for a way too long time. And further, I like it here: this church has been my sanctuary for most of my life._

Joan nodded her consent, and in they went. After the Mass, Brian interpreted her thoughts to the priest and to her friends. Thanks to Brian, Joan had gained back one piece of her old life.

xxxxx

After her first foray to the church, Joan took to going there on her own. With Brian's help she set up a deal with the taxi company, and the personnel of the nursing home helped, too. First she just visited the church, but soon she decided to try more adventurous places. On her own, she went to libraries, museums and exhibitions.

Brian was proud of Joan, but to him it was not adventurous enough.

"I ordered us a cab, Joan," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's go."

As before, Joan could not get him to tell her where he was taking her. She trusted Brian enough to feel quite safe but not enough not to have doubts. For example, she did not wish to end up in some place full of gay people. They ended up at a much more frightening place: a mall.

"Bras!" Joan let out, showing her sudden anxiety. "Ice cannon."

"It's your call, Joan, as always. You decide whether you can do this or cannot." Brian took her hands. "But I think that you would like to get Christmas presents for your grandchildren." Brian's persuasive expression turned into a mischievous grin as he went on. "And I think you think that you need a new dress for the Christmas party."

_He does know my mind, even if I don't. I thought that I had bought my last new dress before the stroke. In so many things I can't see beyond that. And Brian is right about the gifts._

"Legs cow," she said with a determined grin.

"Yeah, legs cow," Brian laughed and, in order to help his laughing mother out of the car, opened the door.

_I love the way he laughs at my mistakes! He doesn't make me feel like he was laughing at me; he's laughing with me. Why did I never see that about my son before the stroke?_

They started at a bookstore to get a gift for Claire. Brian helped Joan to choose by bringing her a cookbook. With an innocent grin, he claimed that his sister did not have any. "If she did, she could cook fine meals. She would like that."

"Broom," Joan said with mock irritation. She could see right through his innocent grin into the little devil of a brother beneath. "Star fussing wish you sailor!"

"I can't. I'm her brother. Brothers are supposed to fight with their sisters."

_Well, that tone of voice brings back memories. Brian was always such a difficult child. Such an arrogant little prick. But wait. There's more than that. He's...sad. He looks lonely and sad. And, that look in his eyes, it seems familiar. It was always there, wasn't it? I saw it, but until now, I never took the effort to really look. Brian always fought with Claire, and I always chastised him. I never before noticed that I hurt Brian._

_Oh, Lord. Did I never see that it takes two to fight, that I should've chastised Claire, too? _

Joan took out her cards and her dictionary. She wanted to apologize, and it was important to tell Brian exactly for what she was apologizing. Afterwards, both of them were a little emotional, a little reflective, and a little embarrassed. To Joan's bemusement, Brian took her to a nearby bar.

"Ice dot draw!" Joan claimed as he steered her at a table, but inside, she knew that she was lying. Before the stroke, she drank and too much at that. After the stroke she had had to admit to being an alcoholic. At times, she still missed her sherry.

"You might not drink any longer," Brian said with a crooked smile, "but I still do, and I need a drink right about now."

_Could my son be an alcoholic, too? Poor child._

"Your shine step drawing, too, Brooke."

"Brooke! Mother dear, I hate to break your fantasy, but I'm still your son," Brian said, smirking with an unsavory intent.

"Didn't chase that subtext!" Joan was not going to let Brian's annoying smirks distract her from the subject of his drinking habits. She took out her cards and handed Brian one of them.

"That's enough, thank you," stood on the card.

"So, you want me to leave?" Brian said in cold tones, but before he could get away Joan stuck another card in his hand. On it there was just one word, "NO!"

"No? But you want me to stop?" Brian lifted one eyebrow and turned his cold smile into a cold smirk. "Sorry, Joan, but I can't begin to guess what it is about me that you've had enough of this time."

From Brian's cold demeanor Joan read the message: Brian did not want to know what she found repellent about him. In a blink of an eye, Brian had turned into a windowless, doorless wall.

_There, that's his true face, the face I've always gotten from him. I knew that it was too good to be true. The Brian that has been visiting me was nothing like the man I know. Cold, heartless, hateful. That's the Brian I know._

_And always before I've let that face distract me from going on with what I wanted to say to him. Not this time, mister!_

Joan took Brian's hand, resisting as he wanted to pull away. Brian sighed and sat down. Joan opened the dictionary and showed a word "listen" to him. Slowly she picked the words she needed, showing them one by one to Brian who wrote them down on a notepad.

She said, "I have got enough of drinking, not of you. I am an alcoholic, son, and I am afraid that you might be one, too. As a son of parents like Jack and I, it is very likely. If that is the case I wish you could stop it, as I have, too."

Brian stared at Joan for a long moment without so much as a word. His face was an expressionless mask. Joan started to feel that she had made a terrible mistake. Why did she make such a confession in front of Brian, of all people?

"We are a sorry bunch, aren't we," Brian then said in tired tones.

Joan squeezed his hand. _A very sorry bunch, indeed._

At the counter, Brian ordered two coffees.

xxxxx

Weeks turned into months and months into years. Despite her impairments, Joan lived a fuller life than ever before. She had the company of both of her children, of her former friends from the church, and she even made friends with a couple of her fellow residents at the home. With the use of the taxi services, she wasn't restricted to the nursing home. With the income from her rented house she had enough money for all her needs. Life was good, indeed.

Brian continued to visit Joan every Tuesday evening, so on the evening that he did not show up, Joan was frantic with worry. She tried to send him a text message, but the signal did not reach his cell phone. She knew of nobody else to whom she could send a message. She could do nothing but pray.

Close to 10 PM, four hours into Joan's wait, a rather vulgar looking stranger was shown to her room. Joan did not have interest in his appearance, though. She wanted to know why he was there.

"I bring you news about Brian," the man said quickly. "He's alive, but not well enough to come here.

"Mrs. Kinney, my name is Emmett Honeycutt, and I'm a friend of Brian's. On his way here, he got shot."

_Oh my God! _Joan gasped._ Why would somebody shoot him? Was it because he is a homosexual? If only he had turned away from..._

"It was pure bad luck, Mrs. Kinney. Brian happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a stray bullet that was shot during a shop robbery. He was lucky, too. The police that were just arriving at the scene saw him losing control of his car. They called for help immediately after he was hit. Brian has a bullet wound in his thigh, and he lost quite a lot of blood.

"I'm sorry that you had to wait for so long for the news about him. By the time they brought Brian to the hospital he was unconscious. It took some time before the hospital reached his partner and the news got out to his friends. I drove here as soon as we understood that you must be waiting for him.

"When I left, Brian was still in surgery; let me call my friends, now, so we can get the latest news."

Soon Emmett told Joan that Brian had survived the surgery and that the doctors expected full recovery. Emmett stayed with Joan for a while longer, until she calmed down, and then left. Joan sat in her chair a moment longer and rang then for help. She was ready for bed.

_What a nice man that Emmett, so considerate and kind. And it wasn't just him, if I understood him right, Brian's friends together made an effort to let me know what was happening. I wonder who Brian's friends are. He never talks about them._

_And according to Emmett, Brian has a partner. I wonder who s..._

_Dear Christ! How blind of me! No wonder he never mentioned his partner or his friends to me._

_I should've seen it; it was right under my nose. Emmett's appearance was a dead giveaway. But when I didn't think about it, I liked him. I really did. I still do._

_How can I like a homosexual man? How am I supposed to stop liking him?_

_Or liking my son?_

_When did I get this fond of him? How could I stop now? I don't want to. Oh Lord!_

xxxxx

As the doctor had predicted, Brian recovered from his wounds without complications. At his next visit, the mother and son were both riding in wheelchairs, and for once, Joan was way better of the two at getting to places. She was able to show Brian some tricks which made her quite smug.

The experience of mutual handicap brought Joan and Brian even closer to each other. Joan's time of moving around in a more graceful manner than her son was short-lived, though. In a few weeks, Brian once again visited her in walking order. At that visit, they both were reflective. Joan's disappointment in not getting better was again fresh, and thus her delight at Brian's recuperation was doubly heartfelt. Brian on the other hand knew intimately the disappointment and loss with which Joan lived every day of her life. His respect for his mother grew.

xxxxx

After Brian's brush with death, Joan could not help thinking about his sexual orientation. It was a topic that she had pushed away from her mind ever since she found out that he was gay. As a fine daughter of the Catholic Church she knew exactly what she was supposed to think and feel about the matter, and of course she agreed with the attitudes and beliefs of her beloved church with all her heart. There was no need to dwell on such thoughts. But that was no longer the case. Joan was feeling a bit uneasy.

When Brian tried to apologize for his friends that had sprung Emmett, the most brightly flaming one of them all, on his hapless mother, Joan surprised Brian by asking him to bring Emmett to visit her again some time. So, against his better judgment, Brian brought the two together. Contrary to Brian's expectations, in a short while, Emmett and Joan were fast friends.

Emmett took to visiting Joan pretty much as regularly as Brian. Sometimes the two men drove down individually, other times they arrived together. Thus Brian had a front row seat to observe how Emmett won Joan over to the dark side. The big queen was a force of nature against which Joan had no shelter.

One evening, Emmett was uncharacteristically quiet. Brian knew what the likely cause was, but Joan did not. She asked Emmett to lighten his heart.

"I was dumped, again," Emmett admitted in frustrated tones. "I thought that I had at last found my other half, but no. Nobody wants me!" And Emmett burst into tears.

Brian turned his eyes away, not feeling comfortable seeing his friend break down like that: they were not teenage girls, damn it. Joan, on the other hand, found herself moved by Emmett's show of emotions and took his hand, patting it gently.

_Poor boy. His grief is no different from Caroline's. It's been long since I've thought about my best friend. Too long. She died so young; she never even met Jack. Well, no loss there._

_Caroline, too, got dumped many times. Looking back, it's so clear. Maybe I could..._

Joan asked Brian to take notes as she, using her dictionary, gathered the words for her thoughts.

"Emmett, I had a friend once, Caroline. She, just like you, found it hard to keep her boyfriends. We never understood the reason; we were too young, and we didn't know much about the human mind. She, like you, was an exception of the norm.

"Forty years ago, my friend was a young woman with male attitudes. While I wanted a husband, a house, and three children, Caroline wanted a career, a car, and a dog. The men she dated found her unique and interesting, but when the time to choose a girl to marry was at hand, they chose girls like me. Caroline was left alone. Just like you, she said that nobody wanted her. She was as devastated as you are.

"In retrospect, I can with certainty say that each of those men would've made my friend miserable. In a marriage with a man that wanted a wife like me she would've died inside. I don't know what kind of a man would've wanted a woman like Caroline-she died young and never found the right man-but I do know that a man that doesn't want you as you are, Emmett, isn't the right man for you.

"I made the mistake of settling down with a man who did not want me. When we met, Jack was handsome and funny, and in order to make him want me, I changed myself. In essence, I lied to him. I could keep up the false facade only for a short time. When my true colors started to show, my marriage turned sour.

"Stop worrying about the men that leave you, Emmett; concentrate on finding the one that stays. It may be that you'll never find him, but believe me, he's worth looking for. It's better to be alone than with a wrong partner."

Joan's words had an impact on each of them. For the first time, Joan admitted to herself that Jack alone was not to blame for her miserable marriage, that she was at fault, too. Emmett found in Joan's words a source of strength to carry on with his search for a life partner.

Brian looked at Joan with emotionless eyes. Her words touched him deeply, too, but the effect was not only positive. In addition to helping him to cope with some bad memories, Joan's words made him mad. There Joan sat, spouting advice on good relationships. Such as her own marriage had been. As if just Joan and Jack were involved. If only she had taken her own advice. Brian kept his feelings inside, though, and neither of the others noticed his state of mind.

xxxxx

Soon afterwards, Joan noticed that her attitude toward Emmett had shifted. She saw him more like a woman than like a man. Such a shift in her own thoughts left her at a loss. Nothing in the teachings of the church, nothing she had experienced before had prepared her for such a thing.

The shift worried Joan because she knew that God had created two distinct sexes. That she let Emmett confuse her mind might be wrong. Was she guilty of a sin? Why was she no longer sure about right and wrong?

Joan read her Bible from one cover to the other, but she did not find an answer. It was not about what Emmett was or about what he did; it was about how Joan saw Emmett. Did God find her attitude wrong, repulsive, even heretical? Should she try to shift her attitude back to what it had been? If so, was that enough? She had always thought of him as a bit effeminate. Maybe, she should see Emmett as she saw clearly masculine men. How did she know that her attitude was appropriate and pleasing to God?

Joan went to the Reverend Tom Butterfield with her problem. He confirmed Joan's notion about the Bible: in the great book her dilemma has not been addressed. To her surprise, Joan learned that, because the Bible did not mention them, there were many aspects to sexual minorities that she knew nothing about. Tom told her among other things about transsexuality and intersexuality. It seemed that even the biological sex of a person was far from a simple matter to determine.

Then Tom went on telling Joan about transvestites, addressing the problems that arise from the cultural construct of a person's sex, called gender. The aspect of that construct that involves transvestites is addressed in the Bible. The book tells the reader that a man must not wear women's clothes and vice versa. But what are the garments one must not wear? Tom told Joan that, in the civilized world, at the time of Christ and even centuries after His time it was still appropriate for men to wear skirts. Joan understood that interpreting the Holy Book was a far more challenging task than she had imagined.

"Mrs. Kinney," Tom brought Joan's wandering thoughts back to the moment. "Am I right if I guess that you've met Emmett Honeycutt? I know the man, and I know that he's a close friend of Brian's."

After Joan had confirmed his guess, Tom asked her to think about some questions.

"Are you absolutely sure that Emmett is a man or a woman? If you are sure, what is the factor that decides the matter for you? If you aren't, what makes it difficult to say? And finally, do you think it possible or impossible that God has created more than one kind of man and one kind of woman?"

_I've no doubt about Emmett: he's a man. Even all his effeminate habits don't shake my conviction. His maleness is not diminished by his figure fitting, colorful clothes or by his elegant hand movements._

_His maleness is in his own mind! He thinks that he's a man, and so I see a man, too._

_The same is true about Brian, Reverend Butterfield, even my late Jack. Their clothing and the language of their body, which are typical of males, support their maleness, but neither creates it. In their minds, they know what they are. Like I know what I am._

_But what made Emmett so different in his maleness from Reverend Butterfield? Was it something about his upbringing or some twistedness about his character? Or was it God's will?_

_The Reverend asked me to think whether the Lord could create different malenesses or not. There can be only one answer: yes. Our Lord is Almighty, He is Omnipotent, and..._

_Dear God!...What there is logical and clear in the world, it comes from God. That's one of the things that determine what's sinful and what's not. Emmett's maleness is as clear as glass. If he tried to deceive me and others to think that he's a woman and not a man; now that would be unclear; that would come from the Devil; that would be a sin._

_Is Emmett's maleness worse, or less, or less worthy than Reverend Butterfield's? Since Emmett's maleness must be created by God, why would He create a maleness that isn't worthy? I can't see His reasons, but He has seen it appropriate to create a maleness that is as close to femaleness as Emmett's._

_I'm not wrong, seeing Emmett as I do; I'm seeing him as God has created him._

Joan smiled radiantly as she thanked Tom for his help and left for home. She was happy.

xxxxx

Joan's restored peace of mind turned out to be a double edged sword. Her ponderings about Emmett's effeminacy forced her to focus also on her concerns about the lifestyle that Emmett and Brian led.

When she first found out about Brian's sexual orientation, she was not only shocked but also unwilling to admit to the truth. For what did God punish her by giving her a homosexual son? What would her friends think about her? She was frightened, she was ashamed, and above all, she was disappointed. How could such a thing happen to a boy in her care?

At the scene, she appeared disgusted. For a long time she was quite satisfied with herself: she reacted like a good Christian woman should react, did she not? But there was a contradiction bothering her. A mother was supposed to love her child, regardless of the child's character, was she not?

After the stroke, Joan was getting less and less satisfied with her attitudes. Brian's regular visits, his considerate help, and his patience with her communication deficiencies had changed her opinion about him into a considerably more positive one. She had learned to trust in his loyalty, to respect his judgment, and to enjoy his sharp wit. She considered his visits among the best things in her life.

The same was true about Emmett's visits. That two of the best things in her life, according to the Bible, were abominations to God made Joan anxious beyond anything else. She read her Bible again and again, but the text never revealed anything new. She prayed, but she received no release of her pain. She even sought for answers on the Internet, to no avail.

The pain in her heart grew too heavy to bear. One day, she came to the Holy Communion, crying. The familiar words of the priest did not give her comfort; not until the line, "This cup is the New Covenant in my blood."

_New Covenant?_

It was like a fresh, cold wind had blown her hair into her eyes and away again. A moment of confusion followed by new clarity. Suddenly, Joan was on a new path.

Back home, Joan once more opened her Bible. She knew the book well, and so, she quickly found the passages that mentioned the New Covenant. She found the most interesting that people of Israel had broken the covenant God had made with Moses and that the New Covenant was intended to replace it. Something about it tugged at her. But what was it, exactly?

As with her worries about Emmett, also with her new set of worries Joan went to see the Reverend Tom Butterfield. Tom was amazed and also pleased that Joan came to him with such questions. For a long time, he had hoped that Joan could open her heart to her son, and at last, he saw her moving in that direction.

Tom confirmed Joan's finds about the New Covenant. He told Joan that Christianity is based on the New Covenant while Judaism is based on the old one.

"Do you know, Mrs. Kinney, what other names are used for the New Covenant?" Tom asked with a little smile. At Joan's admission of ignorance, he told her, "New Testament and The Kingdom of God."

_But that means..._

Painstakingly slow, Joan asked Tom, "The Ten Commandments, the law of God in the Old Testament. Are they what the New Covenant replaces?"

"That is what I believe in, Mrs. Kinney," Tom said with his conviction showing. "Also in my family there's a gay person. I've struggled with the same dilemma as you: how to be a Catholic and, in the same time, how to accept homosexuality. I think that you're getting close to the truths that helped me find peace of mind. I can't give you your answer. Every path to the truth is different, and it is best that way. I can give you some advice, though.

"Mrs. Kinney, when you read the Bible you should pay attention not only to what is said but also where it is said. Further, in addition to the Bible you could find useful thoughts in the interpretations of the passages that speak to you. You'll find them in libraries, even on the Internet."

In deep thought, Joan went home.

xxxxx

Joan took Tom's advice. First she wanted to find out where, within the Bible, the passages about homosexuality are located. She was surprised when she noticed that, excepting one passage, they were all in the Old Testament.

The one exception was from Paul. At first, Joan saw it as confirming the condemnation of homosexuality that so long had been her reason for condemning Brian.

The find made Joan stressed, which led her to depression. For some weeks, she gave up, but time healed Joan's depression, and she returned to her study with new vigor. Also the passage from Paul became a titillating piece of information as soon as Joan took a look at the people that spoke about homosexuals or their behavior. Not one passage was said to quote Jesus. It seemed likely that even Paul's words were not from Him: Paul was commenting on the old Jewish law on his own. Jesus seemed to pay the issue of homosexuality no attention.

_Why is that? If the condemnation of Brian's lifestyle doesn't come from Jesus Christ, why does the church condemn it? Is it because of the Old Testament, the old law of God? If the old law is replaced with the new one is it not the right thing to do to ignore the old law?_

_What is the new law, anyway? How can I not know the answer?_

Without help Joan did not think to even try to find an answer. She was too confused. The next time Brian paid her a visit, she asked for his help in contacting a theologian. She was amazed when she learned that one of Brian's closest friends was in a very good position to help her. As a university professor, Ben Bruckner was a co-worker of a few theologians.

Brian and Ben helped Joan to write a letter to the person that was willing to help her. In answer, she got a couple of books and notes on locating in them the information she was looking for. Joan delved into the books with fervor.

As the starting point, she was led to a passage in the Old Testament that prophesied the New Covenant. With the help of the source books that helped her with the archaic forms of writing, she found the passage quite different to read. More clearly than before, the passage told her that people needed to be taught the old law, but that the new law would be written in a person's heart and so it was not needed to learn it from other people. In particular, it was written that the New Covenant, including its new law, was intended for all people, not just for some chosen individuals or groups.

To say the least, Joan was flabbergasted.

_I don't understand. Is not God's will the law I, as a Christian, have to obey? I've been taught about His will throughout my life. The priests have made it perfectly clear that to be a good Christian I have to submit my will to God and that the right way to do it is to follow their guidance._

_Why do the priests teach me? Am I not one of the "all people"?_

_Apparently I'm not, since I can't find the new law in my heart. What does it take to be included in the New Covenant? I've lived my whole life following the teachings of the Church. I've made all the sacrifices that have been demanded of me. Why am I not worthy?_

Joan was frustrated, she was anxious, she was getting frightened. She felt like the earth was restless beneath her. She was also a bit angry.

This time she was not alone with her Bible. With the books the theologian had sent her, Joan found a new level of knowledge in the familiar piece of text. According to the books, a deep disagreement existed on the matter of the New Covenant. Jews took one stand, Christians another.

Joan learned that Christians support the view that the New Covenant cannot simply be a renewal of the Old Covenant. She took that to mean that she could leave behind the things in the Old Testament that contradicted the teachings she found in the New Testament. Reaching that conclusion, Joan felt a great relief. It was easier to breathe. Something that she never had noticed holding her back had let her go.

As Joan ventured to the paths of more independent thinking, she was timid. With each new vista, Joan felt something stirring inside, but at the same time, she was afraid of making a bad mistake. She questioned her every move. However, the lure of unknown knowledge was strong. She ventured further and further, and as she went she gained courage.

With her new-found nerve, Joan soon tackled the dilemma of being a devout member of the Holy Church and yet incapable of finding God's law in her heart. Once again she read her Bible, trying to find some passage that spoke to her. No passage did.

Frustrated, Joan started one of the source books from the very beginning, intending to read it through if need be and the others after it. She chose the book well. She found an answer to her question and in addition an answer to a question she had not even made.

According to the book, all it took to become included in the New Covenant was to accept it. To Joan that made perfect sense, and it also pointed out what was missing from her faith. Joan had never accepted the New Covenant.

Joan had the courage to face the bitter truth. As a member of the church Joan had satisfied the expectations of other people: her parents, her friends, the priests, even strangers. Instead of God's law, she had taken their expectations into her heart, or what she thought their expectations to be. She had been too busy with their demands to listen to God's voice.

The acceptance of the New Covenant turned out to be an elusive concept. Joan was sure that she had already learned all she needed to know about it, but for some reason she could not put things together. She did not know what to do. She did not know what it was she was supposed to accept in order to accept the New Covenant. The meaning behind the words remained hidden from her.

xxxxx

"Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi..."

Next Sunday at Mass, as Joan listened to the familiar line of a song she found the answer.

_O Lamb of God that takest...I've been blind and deaf!_

_It's in the liturgy of the Holy Communion! "This cup is the New Covenant in my blood." Christ's sacrifice is the New Covenant. In order to be involved in the covenant all I need to accept is that His blood takes away the sin of the world._

_All sin, sins of all men that accept the New Covenant have already been forgiven._

_Also Brian's, Emmett's, Ben's, the Reverend Butterfield's family member's and any other homosexuals' sins are already forgiven. Whatever their sins may be._

_That must be why Jesus never mentioned homosexuals. It's irrelevant whether homosexuality is a sin or not. If it is, at the moment a person accepts God's absolution the sin is forgiven. The person that accepts the New Covenant has God's law written in his or her heart and no longer commits to sin._

_Condemning Brian, I did wrong. I set myself in between Brian and God. It's not my place, not my business. How could I know whether Brian has accepted His absolution on not? To me he would never tell such a thing._

_As a Christian, it is my duty to help Brian to accept God's absolution. If he's struggling, I'm needed to give him support and guidance. As a Christian, I should accept and love my son. I should embrace him as a whole, his sins and all. Am I capable of accepting him?_

_Can I accept the New Covenant? Am I ready to accept that not just the people I see as worthy but also those that in my eyes are unworthy are already forgiven? Dare I?_

_Dear God! It's the same acceptance. In accepting my son I accept also God's absolution of all sin._

Exhausted and overwhelmed, Joan burst into tears.

xxxxx

The Mass ended and Joan's friends helped her to a secluded little nook in the church. They offered to help her home, but she had the cab waiting outside. She needed something else: Brian. With the help of a friend she sent him a text message, asking him to meet her at the nursing home as soon as possible.

When Joan got home, Brian was waiting for her.

"Mother, is something wrong? You got me worried."

Joan assured Brian that everything was fine.

"I need to tell you something, Brian," she said, using the dictionary.

Her next sentence read, "I've been wrong condemning you because of your homosexuality."

"Mom..." Brian's voice caught in his throat.

"Please, forgive me!" Joan went on.

"I...I..."

"I don't expect you to forgive me now. Maybe you never will, but I beg you to try." By the time she had created the message, Joan's cheeks were wet from tears.

"I will...try, Mother." Tears shone in Brian's eyes, too.

"Brian! I've learned to accept you as you are. Please, believe me. I'm so sorry it took me all this time."

"Mom...I..."

"Back then, after the stroke, the doctor told me that I have one chance in a million to ever speak clearly again."

"I remember, Mom."

"If God granted me that one chance I would use it to tell you how much I love you, Brian!"

Brian took Joan's cold hands, warming them in his own. The mother and the son smiled at each other. In companionable silence, they watched the shadows growing tall.


End file.
